A Full Seven Days
by PouringRain-BlazingStorm
Summary: They are fair of face, full of grace, full of woe, have far to go, are loving and giving, work hard for their living and are blithe and good. They are our nations. Last one up: N. & S. Italy
1. Saturday: Iceland

Bad girl! No new stories! Bad!

Ahh! Don't beat me I know, I know! I'm sorry but I couldn't get it out of my head!

Anyways...This is a random where the hell did this come from kind of thing. For some reason I thought of the poem 'Mondays Child' so I am taking the poem and having each day correspond to a character that is born on that day. Hopefully you like it.

Don't ask me why I chose Iceland first. I just have this love for him...wait this sentence defeats the purpose of the one before it.

Oh well.

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Monday's Child

Mondays child is fair of face,  
Tuesdays child is full of grace,  
Wednesdays child is full of woe,  
Thursdays child has far to go,  
Fridays child is loving and giving,  
**Saturdays** child works hard for his living,  
And the child that is born on the Sabbath day  
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.

The air was cold and frigid though it was only early September. The wind blew off the ocean and through the wool knit sweater that covered your upper body. The hair on your arms stood on end as a rather rough gust hit your back. Taking your gloved hands you rubbed your arms and sauntered over to when the silver headed boy lay sprawled on a deck chair.

"Why do I have to dig? It's your garden!" You glared over at the foot deep hole and then turned back to his shining bright eyes, "Can plants even grow in Iceland?"

He furrowed his lightly coloured brow, "Firstly, yes. Plants can grow here…We just don't have that much of variety. And second, you wanted to add 'colour' to my yard. I see no obligation to help."

He turned his eyes back to the sea, leaned back and let out a long sigh. You knew that he had drifted into a daydream. He was always the kind to wander off in his own mind, imagination running wild and return to reality only if forced to. Stepping down the stairs you picked up the hand shovel and began to place some blue, white and red flowers into the dirt.

Iceland. He had always had your undivided attention. Even when you first laid eyes on him with his brother and other Nordics you were enthralled with the mysterious island nation. He was relatively young, close to you in age. His silver hair, purple eyes, pale skin and tall stature made you blush when ever his dead to the world eyes landed on you. After being introduced by Denmark – good old Denmark and his persistent ways – you made quick friends with the others thus spending more time with Iceland when the older Nordics would invite you over. As the years passed by your friendships grew and you and Iceland became closer and closer. You were best friends…well you thought so but you could never really know what the boy was thinking unless he blew up in an emotional shower at Denmark. He let you stay at his house on the outskirts of Reykjavik. You spent more time with him than in your own country (Canada missed you). You had your own room with clothes, toiletries, games, books and other personal items strewn throughout his home. Iceland would call it sometimes a "hostile takeover" but you knew it was his way of making a joke. He didn't make them very often. He was quiet and soft spoken, never butting in with his opinion unless asked. There was one time when he got into a heated debate with Sweden about trading. You didn't catch more than half due to the thick accents and lapses into native tongues. Another thing quirky about Iceland that you noticed in all the years that you were together was that he hardly spoke Icelandic. He spoke more in English than his native language even if he was talking to one of his citizens. You begged him to teach you but he always refused. So what did you do? Take night classes and teach yourself. All in all the two of you were "like an old married couple" as most nations liked to tease.

"Iceland~ Iceland~ Iceland! ICELAND!"

He blinked his dazed eyes and focused on you. What he say of a young woman covered in dirty and mud leaning over him with a pout on her rose lips.

"Come help me please? My back hurts from kneeling for so long." He stared at you blankly. Words processing in his brain as you put a hopeful smile on your face.

"No."

"Thanks – What?"

"I don't do manually labor. I'll supervise though."

"Wha - How – Nah – Mhh"

"The sun is setting and it gets even colder at night. You know this. Come inside when you are finished," he paused and you could see the wheels turning in his head. After a brief moment of hesitation he continued on.

"Make sure you don't track dirt into the house." He lifted his body off the chair and with long, muscular legs walked through the back door and into the adjoining laundry room.

You stared after him jaw open.

"What a, a, an argh!"

You stomped back over to the half finished flower patch. You plopped down with a thud on the disturbed dirt and began to finish your little project. What should have been a fun activity for the both of you, left you feeling like a child playing in the mud and a frown on your face.

"That boy has never worked a day in his life! What does he know about manual labor? Quitter!"

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Review if you please!

Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it as much as I did...I guess I should like it since I'm the author.

?

M


	2. Friday: England

Second out of seven! I don't know when my thoughts got so depressing but I think it might have been around the time I remembered I had accounting homework...joy. I miss the sciences! Come back to me!

Anyways I hope you like!

I don't own anything! Not the poem or Hetalia.

Next will be, well, I'll let you guess on your own. But he's totally awesome, but maybe I'm biased cause we are one and the same.

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Monday's Child

Mondays child is fair of face,  
Tuesdays child is full of grace,  
Wednesdays child is full of woe,  
Thursdays child has far to go,  
**Fridays** child is loving and giving,  
Saturdays child works hard for his living,  
And the child that is born on the Sabbath day  
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.

Of all the things that England was, he was not loving or giving or so he seemed. He coveted his land, people, food, traditions, etc. Everything that he could name his, he would. He liked to yelled and throw tantrums too when he did not get his way. It was quite frustrating really. Especially since you knew that deep down he really cared.

The early sunlight stretched into the bedroom and hit your closed eyes. It began to signal your upcoming wake up as it rose higher and higher into the sky. At eight you awoke, stretched and moseyed over to the adjoining bathroom to do your business and get the day started. Walking into the kitchen you looked around for any sign of life. There was none.

"Seems like England has left again," you mumbled to yourself. You had been talking to yourself lately.

Looking at the empty table, stove and fridge you let out a sigh, "And he left no food."

Going to the pantry and opening the wooden doors you contemplated whether to have plain or apple and cinnamon oatmeal.

"Hm, plain. Then I can add stuff to it," you turned towards the apple and cinnamon, "don't worry I'll have you tomorrow." Yes it was that bad. You were talking to packaged oatmeal.

The rest of the day passed slowly with no phone calls, texts or even emails. It was like you were cut off from the world while you were in England's home. He asked you to stay, never leave but why shouldn't you? Did he even want you there anymore when he wouldn't even say goodbye before he left? Maybe he had grown tired of your constant presence.

The door slammed open and ricocheted off the foyer wall at 6:30 pm. You hopped out of the kitchen, smiling as you greeted him.

"Hi honey! How was your day? Dinner's almost ready. Would you like anything before then?"

"I'm not hungry, bloody hell! Leave me be!" He stomped up the stairs and into the bedroom. From the kitchen you could hear him yelling about America.

You sighed and sat at the island in the kitchen. The sound of glass shattering had you wincing in pain. Was he okay?

"Arthur, are you okay?" You raced up the stairs and into your shared bedroom. You gasped at the destruction. Bed sheets were torn and rolled into abstract coils, clothes littered the floor, and pictures knocked off the walls but no England. Taking tentative steps you arrived in the bathroom doorway. The mirror above the sink was gone. Only jagged pieces left at the wrought-iron border. Shards of glass met in the nadir of the sink, red stained and ominous. Toiletries were knocked over and blood smeared the wall with hand prints. It was like a bad horror movie.

He sat in the corner, pressed against the footed bathtub. Hand holding hand. His face was paler than normal, green eyes seeming to glow against golden hair. He pink lips set in a somber line.

"Oh Arthur, let me look." You reached for his bloodied hand, he gave no resistance. Opening his palm your saddened eyes softened. A large shard of glass protruded out from his palm. Other shards were embedded in there also but the blood hid them from your view. Looking over your shoulder, your unoccupied hand reached under the counter and pulled out some tweezers from your makeup case. In the back, you found the hydrogen peroxide and gauze. Turning back towards England you murmured to him that it will hurt. He just blinked his eyes. You cleaned the tweezers with the antiseptic first, and then pulled his hand closer to you. By now your clothes were bloodied also. The tweezers took hold on the large piece of glass. Before you pulled on the glass you looked back to him. Leaning in you pressed your chapped lips to his equally dry ones. Drawing back you gave a sharp tug. England hissed in pain. Setting the piece of glass into the trash bin, you took his hand and held it over the bathtub. Blood began to pool out in a new frenzy. Picking up the hydrogen peroxide you undid the lid and poured it onto the wound. Diluted blood flowed down the drain. The wound became clearer, making it easy for you to see some of the other pieces of glass. Gently drying off the soaked hand you went back to picking out shards. You shared tiny pecks here and there to overshadow his pain. When the last piece was out you took hydrogen peroxide on a piece of gauze and began to lightly press it against the wound. After you firmly secured the gauze you began to put the medical supplies back and wash the walls and floors of the blood. England sat there looking at his hand, eyes blank. When you bent down to him again you lifted the edges of his shirt.

"Come on, let's get this thing off you and into the wash, pants too," you said to him as softly as you would to a fragile doll. Pulling the shirt over his head you rolled it into a ball and threw it behind you. Your eyes never left his face.

"Arthur, look at me," you placed your hand against his cheek, drawing his face towards you. He leaned into you palm, eyes closing, shaky breath escaping is lips. You kissed his lips, tears dropping from your eyes in grief. You could see the cloud of pain and loneliness hovering over him, never leaving. Leaning in closer you cupped his cheek, drawing him into your lips. When he began to press back, you let your right hand stray to his unruly hair. You curled your fingers into the gold, twisting and holding the stands. He moaned into your mouth. You pulled back and so did he. Centimeters apart your hot breaths mingled. His bad hand reached up and placed itself behind your left ear. His thumb brushed your stranded tears away. He pulled you forward and into his chest, lips moving against yours. Maneuvering your body, he placed your back against the tub. The cold metal sent shivers up your spine as his lips warmed you. He pulled his lips from your now swollen ones, kissing along your jaw and too your ear and said the short phrase that made you stay every time.

"I love you."

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Hoped you liked it! Review please!

Love

M


	3. Thursday: Canada

I Think this fits him pretty well. Only five more to go! I looked at my list and realize how fitting the poem's days relate to the countries that were "born" on that day. Hmm, anyways I hope you enjoy this!

Disclaimer! I do not own this poem or Hetalia, or Canada for that matter. I really wish I did. It would be awesome to say the least.

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Monday's Child

Mondays child is fair of face,  
Tuesdays child is full of grace,  
Wednesdays child is full of woe,  
**Thursdays** child has far to go,  
Fridays child is loving and giving,  
Saturdays child works hard for his living,  
And the child that is born on the Sabbath day  
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.

He was a rather young ration compared to the others sitting around the table. Of course his brother was equally as young but it seemed that he always had the spotlight. Maybe it was his brother's obnoxious ways. Maybe it was all the talk of heroes and his bold ideas. Whatever it was it got him noticed.

Himself, on the other hand, he was invisible. Ghosts were seen more than he was. Sure, some nations recognized him from time to time but he would just slip under the radar again.

His own father figures even ignored him. After all the fighting and yelling they went through over him and now that he's independent, he counts for nothing.

No, no, he can start peacekeeping, send aid to countries in need, be on the front line defeating others but he can't be worth acknowledging at all. What more did he have to do?

"Canada?" He looked straight ahead not even hearing her voice call to him.

"Canada, Matthew?" He looked down and ruffled his bear's fur.

It wasn't until her soft and delicate hand touched his shoulder that he realized he was being spoken to. After all, he was used to being invisible.

"Hm, what is it eh? You can see me?" His bright violet eyes shaded with disbelief.

"…Why would I not be able to see you?" Her voice held confusion, which in turn confused the male nation.

"Anyways, I was wondering if you would like to go for lunch with me." He paused, unsure to believe her or not.

"Why me? America said he wanted to spend the day with you." He didn't want to cause any problems. America could be very demanding if he did not get his way.

"Well, I really do like America and all, don't get me wrong. It's just that…well he's giving me a headache. And all we really talk about when we are out is of him and superheroes and how "heroly" he is. It gets kind of boring." She looked down and tugged on her sleeves, bracelets clinking.

He was surprised; it clearly showed on his face. Was this for real?

"Really, eh? You really want to go with me?" He had to make sure he was hearing properly.

"Yeah, of course I do! Why wouldn't I Canada, I love your company!"

His face grew red at her outburst. He muffled his face into Kumajiro and smiled softly. Looking back up at his savior he nodded his head, blond locks swaying. She grinned brightly in return.

"So where would you like to go? You can pick, let it be a surprise okay?" He nodded his head again and breathed out an okay to her. She quickly bent down and hugged him and pulling away she gave him a peck on the cheek. She strolled over to her chair and sat down.

From across the room soft chuckles echoed through the air. Smiles lit up many faces.

"He has really grown, hasn't he?" France whispered out with a serene expression. Norway, Denmark, England, Ireland, Scotland, The Netherlands, the Italys, and Prussia could only agree.

Canada really was noticed. Just he was rooted on for from the sidelines. There was no worried that he would not age in the right direction. Canada, though he did not notice, was a leader to the world.

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Hoped you liked it! Please review if you feel that gravitational pull toward that button right there.


	4. Wednesday: Switzerland

I must say that I am very, very pleased.

Why?

Well I had my last class today and I only have three exams and after those exams I have three weeks of holidays until I start my new term!

...I would be more exciting though if I got more than one of the classes I wanted. Oh well. I can build my electives.

Who doesn't love the trigger happy nation? I'm a Wednesday's child so I can feel for him. Hope you like it! Next is a very...'emotional' nordic. Just a little clue. Hope you like it!

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Monday's Child

Mondays child is fair of face,  
Tuesdays child is full of grace,  
**Wednesdays** child is full of woe,  
Thursdays child has far to go,  
Fridays child is loving and giving,  
Saturdays child works hard for his living,  
And the child that is born on the Sabbath day  
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.

"Does he ever smile?" she whispered to Belgium while giggling so much that the question was broken into many parts. She blinked her green eyes and shook her head. Her whole body was shaking and she hunched over as to not draw attention to herself. A loud bark of laughter left [Name]'s lips as her blonde friend fell off her chair in full blown laughter. The meeting room went quiet. All eyes were on the two girls that were keeled over with tears in their eyes. Germany cleared his throat and glared his icy blues at the two.

"Really ladies. Please control yourselves," he turned back to pay attention to Spain but not before giving [Name] "the look" as she and Gilbert had dubbed it. [Name] sighed. Germany expected too much from her. Her eyes drifted over to the boy she was talking about before Germany assaulted her with his eyes.

Switzerland. _No really, does he ever smile?_ Though all the years you had known him he had never twitched his lips into an upward position. Maybe it was a vow of frowning? Like a vow of silence maybe? [Name] shook her head, not knowing that Switzerland was giving her a weird look. He had noticed that all through the meeting she had been looking at him and giggling. Did he have something on his face?

The meeting continued on for a few more hours, each country taking their turn to speak or in America's case cutting off other countries to speak more. [Name] slouched in her chair; Belgium had already fallen asleep next to her. Through the rest of the meeting [Name] kept on stealing glances at the ever frowning nation. Sometimes she would catch his eye and others she would stare at him as he paid attention to the speaker or polished one of his many guns. Out of her boredom was born a plan; a most amusing plan. But it would have to wait until the meeting was over…and it would probably cost her a trip to the hospital. But it was sure to be worth it.

The meeting ended when England flew across the table and started to strangle America. And then France, bless his soul, started to streak around the room just for the heck of it. The other nations began to get up and leave tired and ready for some much needed sleep, and maybe a migraine pill for Germany.

Switzerland rose from his chair and gestured to Lichtenstein so follow. Quickly racing around to where Switzerland was standing [Name] stopped in front of him blocking is way. He raised a blond eyebrow at her strangle but not unusual behavior.

[Name] reached her hand up and placed it on his cheeks in a loving manner. She leaned in close for what seemed to be like a kiss. Switzerland blushed but could feel his body slowing leaning in also. Just when they were almost touching [Name] tugged on Switzerland's cheeks making his lips travel in the upper direction.

"You look so cute when you smile Switzerland! You should do it more often!" The nations is the room froze when they saw [Name] touch Switzerland the first time but now they couldn't move a muscle due to the aura Switzerland emitted.

The nations that were in the hall stopped walking and look back at the conference room doors curiously when they heard a gunshot.

For [Name], well, the hospital was pleasant.

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Please review!


	5. Tuesday: Norway

Norway! Norway! I love him so much! Maybe it's because I want to move to Oslo after a couple degrees...Or maybe it's because he is indeed delicious. Mm I love blonds.

Disclaimer: Don't own Noway, or Denmark or anything else that relates to Hetalia...unfortunately.

Hope you like it!

PS. The next one is surely to be the hero of the collection.

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Monday's Child

Mondays child is fair of face,  
**Tuesdays** child is full of grace,  
Wednesdays child is full of woe,  
Thursdays child has far to go,  
Fridays child is loving and giving,  
Saturdays child works hard for his living,  
And the child that is born on the Sabbath day  
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.

Norway was an enigma. A mystery. No lie. He was quiet and a recluse. He never liked to answer his phone, rarely checked or responded to his emails and dodged any form of contact with the other nations and he did all of this with uncanny grace. It was terrifying; the way he walked into the room as if he was an American movie star on the red carpet. He owned the room. He was like…like a damn swan for goodness sakes!

"Woh woh! Calm down [Name]!" Denmark held his hands up as if in surrender. [Name] has been complaining to him for the past fifteen minutes to him in a small café in Copenhagen. He had only been in the café for seventeen minutes.

"Let me get a beer and then you can continue. Man," he drew a hand into his spiky hair and pulled on it a little, "I didn't know you had such anger towards him. Weird especially since you two are, well you know." He blinked his blue eyes and smirked a dirty smirk.

"I don't hate him, Denmark! He just infuriates me to no end! I mean I took seven years of ballet and many years of musical theatre and he still is more graceful than I am." She paused for a minute as Denmark chuckled and waved the waitress over. The buxom blonde flipped her hair and smiled at the man. She gave [Name] a dirty took and then proceeded to ask if Denmark needed anything. He ordered his beer and then turned back to his fuming friend.

"He's not human." Denmark rolled his eyes.

"Well, duh. We're not human, we're nations." She sighed angrily.

"You know what I mean!" She took a vicious bite of her brownie and then a swig of her peppermint tea. Denmark winced and shuffled in his seat.

"…feel sorry for…"

"What was that!"

Denmark sighed, reached across the table, grabbed her hand and began to rub soft circles on her skin.

"[Name], please don't take this the wrong way but that's just the way Norway his. Even when he was a Viking he was graceful. Seemed like he floated when he walked you know?" She opened her mouth to say something but Denmark continued on before she could tell him he could go you know where.

"I don't know why you worry so much. Do you think he's going to leave you?"

"Well…"

"Honestly?" Denmark raised an eyebrow and laughed and took the beer the waitress handed to him. He took a sip and smile a cocky, I'm-laughing-at-you –so-hard –on-the-inside-right-now smile. When he had finished half of the beer he began again but was stopped by [Name].

"What if, what if he does leave me? For someone for graceful and maybe blonde." She took a lock of her not so blonde hair and tugged at it with a frown. She loved her hair but only until she heard that Norway preferred tall blondes did she start to worry about her appearance.

"Yeah right! The guy loves you! He would never leave you."

"…have you seen the way he looks at me? I've seen more expression on a corpse!"

"He looks at everyone that way. One time, back in the day, I remember he stared down a dragon with those eyes!"

"'Back in the day'? Okay grandpa what did he do the dragon after?"

Denmark laughed and ruffled her hair, "He befriended it. Oh and by the way, I am way too hot to be a grandpa." He over pronounced hot and jerked his head quickly at the giggling girls by the window checking him out.

"He befriended," she blinked her eyes in disbelief, "a dragon?"

Denmark shrugged, "He did pen down all the Norse stuff after all. A dragon's nothing. You should ask him about the other beings he's seen and still sees."

Her mouth hung. She didn't believe in dragons or fairies or sea monsters. But she would never say any of that out loud in fear of being murdered by the ex-Vikings. She shook her head. She was friends with living personifications of the nations of the world. What was so shocking about a dragon?

The bell on the café door chimed as someone stepped through. Turning, [Name] saw that it was her boyfriend and main subject of her talk with Denmark.

Norway swept the seating area with his dull cadet blue eyes. Spotting Denmark's flailing arms he began to walk over.

[Name] turned her back to her boyfriend and hissed, "See! Look what he's doing!"

They both turned their eyes towards the Nordic and watched him approach. The other patrons of the café halted all movement. Females swooned as he glided over the floor. Once straight males gawked at Norway's stride and the way his legs made his behind look delicious. The sound of glass shattering and food hitting the floor was heard as non-existent wind tousled his lightly wavy blond hair. He looked like a god right off the runway in his designer jeans, loafers, red knit sweater and white dress shirt underneath.

After what seemed like forever Norway sat next to [Name]. He raised a hand and brushed it against her red lower cheek.

"Why are you drooling?"

[Name] glared, "fuck you."

He turned to scrutinize Denmark and make a scathing comment about his clearly showing mismatched socks but not before for whispering to [Name] with the same emotionless expression and graceful presence.

"Time and place."

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Please review!


	6. Monday: America

He is quite handsome isn't he...But it would totally go straight to his head if someone told that to his face. I actually did this to my best friend when we were back in high school...It was chem and she was sleeping and I was bored...Ah good times, good times. Hope you like, one more!

People have been telling me that second person bothers them so I've been trying to write in third...I find it harder but I guess I could try to change my writing style for readers...though I don't want to.

Thank you to all those read, review, add this to their favourites or to thier alerts. I really appreciate the fact that people like these stories.

Hope you like it!

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Monday's Child

**Mondays** child is fair of face,  
Tuesdays child is full of grace,  
Wednesdays child is full of woe,  
Thursdays child has far to go,  
Fridays child is loving and giving,  
Saturdays child works hard for his living,  
And the child that is born on the Sabbath day  
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.

She was not lying when she said that she thought America was handsome. She just wished that he didn't happen to be standing behind her when she blurted it out. Now she could never get the boy to leave her alone. It also didn't help with England and France teasing her and America whenever they were in the same room. It sucked too, she found, that as a response to the teasing America would respond with the acclamation:

"Shut up you guys! Me and [Name] are gonna get married and we'll show you!"

Her eyebrow would twitch in response and she could always say, "[Name] and I, Alfred. [Name] and I."

She would try to ignore the violent snickers from the Brit and Frenchman. It was a hard task though and she would always end up taking her frustration out on poor Canada whom would always be there to listen to her. Not that he could escape her once she started.

There came a day though, when she was sick and tired from being harassed just because America had a pretty face. This day just happened to be the day that Russia was putting on a World Meeting so America felt the need to purposefully fall asleep and snore as the large nation spoke.

Nations glared as America let out a rather loud snore. [Name] also glared down at the boy next to her in disdain as Russia was a good friend of hers. Looking down at the table before her, [Name] suddenly had an idea. With a devious smirk that would put Prussia's to shame she picked up her blue pen and uncapped it.

With some light humming she lifted the hair at the base of America's neck and pinned it back with a bobby pin that was once occupying her hair. Switching the pen to her left hand she began to doodle on the back of America's neck. Giggling she picked up another colour of pen and began to make swirling designs down his shoulders.

By now her odd behavior had captured the attention of nations that sat around her. England had fallen to the floor trying to cover his laughs; France had placed his head on the table and was shaking uncontrollably; Japan was standing up and circling around her and America with a camera taking pictures; Germany was smirking in triumph; Italy was looking on in confusion and the Nordics all raised a blonde eyebrow except for Denmark who was laughing with Prussia and Finland who was holding on to Sweden's arm with a look of worry. Netherlands had wandered over to see what the commotion was and Russia had stopped speaking and came over too. He laid a hand on her shoulder and gave her a positively ecstatic grin.

When America began to show signs of waking up everyone went back to how they were before but periodically sent him knowing looks with a smirk.

As America would catch the eye of fellow nations he would proclaim, "Yeah, I know I'm the hero and amazingly good looking but your staring is starting to creep me out man." The nations would just snigger and look back to the speaker.

It took three days before America noticed his neck. After yelling at [Name], America when to the bathroom to scrub the pen off his neck.

A loud angry cry echoed in the hotel.

[Name] ran to the bathroom and threw the door open. She laughed at the sight. America's neck was beet red but the pen could still be seen. His blue eyes shimmered with tears. When America whimpered [Name] sighed softly and grabbed the face cloth from his hand and pulled him down so she could reach his neck.

"My face *sob* my beautiful face!"

"It's your neck idiot!...God. You are _so_ lucky that you are such a pretty boy otherwise I would never let you lean on me and cry about your 'scared' face."

Needless to say that the other nations never let him live it down.

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Thank you for reading! Please review if you like!


	7. Sunday: N & S Italy

So late! Sorry! I don't know why I haven't posted it until now...

It's short but sweet, hope you like it!

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Monday's Child

Mondays child is fair of face,  
Tuesdays child is full of grace,  
Wednesdays child is full of woe,  
Thursdays child has far to go,  
Fridays child is loving and giving,  
Saturdays child works hard for his living,  
And the child that is born on the **Sabbath day**  
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.

They were innocent. At least around you they were. You had no idea how they were about other women but around you they were quiet and calm. The only fighting that happened was who got to fall asleep in your lap.

It was one of those days. When Romano would start swearing and Feli would cling and cry. Though you shouldn't endorse it, you couldn't help but laugh at the sight. You had caved in, in the end, and let the two brothers lay side to side, heads resting in your lap. You brushed your hands though their brown hair, careful of their curls.

You thought back to your younger days as they dozed. They were just children then, maids in Austria and Spain's house. It took quite an effort but you managed to travel back and forth between the two boss' to visit the little descendants of the Roman Empire.

_Spain sat on the grass and laughed as Romano went as red as one of his tomatoes. Your dress had fallen off your shoulder letting a glimpse of the top of your cleavage be seen. Spain looked at you with dark eyes. Eyes filled with promises that would have to wait until Romano was in bed but the little Italian blushed and stuttered innocently at you. You smiled at him and pulled him into your lap to sit. You grabbed his hands and kissed them giggling when his face almost burst from blood pressure. It was just another day with the two._

_Holy Rome peaked around the corner to stare intently at Italy and you playing in the courtyard. You twirled the little boy in your arms and laughed as he raised his hands into the air. Holy Rome blushed and Austria shook his head as he walked by. The small but strong blond turned from the laughter and prepared to walk away. A soft hand touched his shoulder. He turned and let his shocking blue eyes widen. You offered your hand to welcome him to join. He looked at you and then at the smiling Italy. With hesitation he let his small hand fall into yours. _

The years had come and gone but your love for the boys had never faded. They were a gift, one that you had to thank the Roman Empire for bringing into this world.

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I'm in the process of posting more stories I have hidden away on my computer...I'm sure they will be up soon *shifty eyes*.


End file.
